All he sees are death-masked stars,
The lion's world is cold and sharp,
All he wants is much too far,
So he stalks the road of token cars,
He snarls at winds that mean no harm,
And takes the thorns in perfect form,
A broken ideal rides inside the tortured lion's denim hide.

I want the lion's share,
Gather up the broken chairs,
Feed my mind unholy tests,
Do me in,
I need to rest.

He sleeps when nothing's in the air,
Eats the scraps of some who care,
Strains the night to overbear,
Secrets hidden in the lair,
Pauses long enough to dream.
Nightmares push the glowing scream,
His shadowed eyes show the toll,
Something only lions know.